


direct to video

by neutralbutterfly



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Assault, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutralbutterfly/pseuds/neutralbutterfly
Summary: (Full game spoilers.)No matter what anyone says, Momota is dating a girl.





	direct to video

**Author's Note:**

> As warned in the tags, this story unfortunately contains the usage of multiple homophobic slurs, and the homophobia is common throughout. There is also an off screen assault that is discussed, and minor violence. If you think you will be uncomfortable with this, I urge you to not read onwards.  
> The use of sexual language is also prevalent, but I didn't think it called for bumping the rating; it's around the level of Iruma in canon.
> 
> Also, believe me, the word count absolutely terrifies me.

In the mirror, Momota slicks his hair up with the best gel that two hundred yen can buy. That is to say, terrible hair gel. It came from the gas station he buys all his meals from.

He shakes his head a few times to ascertain that none of the leftover liquid is dripping down his face. Satisfied with his no doubt gorgeous appearance, Momota flicks out the light and leaves the bathroom. A quick glance at his battered watch says that it’s three after seven. It’s almost time, then.

He slides down the banister to the ground floor and rushes out the door without bothering to lock it. The only thing of value inside is his television, and he stole that from the dump. It doesn’t even get cable.

The slick black car that is fifty-three times too fancy to belong in this neighborhood is idling right in front of his yard. Momota pulls open the passenger door and climbs inside, grinning amidst the heavy smoke that greets him.

“Evening, Harumaki,” he coughs. “Tell me, how is the most beautiful girl in this car doing?”

“Stuff it,” Harukawa replies, slightly muffled by the cigarette between her lips. “We’re alone, Momota. There’s no need to put on a fucking show.”

Momota pouts. “But the best actors have to rehearse their shows before performing to the public!”

Harukawa rolls her eyes. “We’re well past rehearsal. It’s just been opening night for the past two years.”

Momota leans back in the car seat. “No kidding. Where are the other two? Or are you playing your part as leading actress by picking up your dashingly handsome romantic partner first?”

“I have a knife in the glove compartment,” Harukawa says.

“Which I am currently sitting in front of.”

Harukawa glowers at him. “And one under my seat. Don’t fucking do this. Not tonight.”

Momota says. “Wow, no need to get so heated. What’s the big occasion?”

She leans close with her eyes narrowed. “Because it’s our fucking anniversary, dipshit. I don’t want to have this fight now.”

“I get it,” Momota says, pulling back. “And I remembered.”

Harukawa snorts. “That’s a lie if I ever heard one. Also, we’re meeting them there. Put the window down, will you? I’m not in the mood to suffocate both of us.”

Momota asks. “But just you was fine?”

“Shut up.”

Momota rolls the window down.

Harukawa drives like a maniac, but Momota can’t drive at all, so it’s just another one of their bitter compromises. He stares out the open window as the smoke dissipates and waits for the urge to vomit to pass. The restaurant is only a few minutes further.

She parks crooked, ensuring that whoever owns the SUV next to them will be unable to leave before them. Momota considers pointing that out to her, but then he remembers the two knives she’s already mentioned, and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had a third in her purse.

He follows Harukawa up the stairs, through the glass double doors. The other two in their party are already talking to the host.

“We have a reservation, under Shinguuji. You must still have us booked.”

The host says. “Yes, but the reservation is for four people. I only see two.”

Momota shouts out. “Hey, Shinguuji! Toujou! Sorry we’re late!”

They turn at the same time. He thinks he sees relief flash in both their eyes.

The host apologizes and takes four menus out of a small bookcase. She leads them to a booth near the wall, slightly isolated from the rest of the room.

Momota slides in first and Harukawa follows. On the other side, Shinguuji and Toujou do the same so that he’s face to face with the masked boy.

“Any special occasion?” the host asks as she hands everyone a menu.

Toujou speaks up. “It’s our anniversary today.”

“Hm? I’d think that you’d want to be alone for one of those.”

Momota cuts in. “It’s our anniversary too.”

“And we found out we were going to the same place for dinner anyways,” Harukawa adds.

“So we made this a double date, if you will,” Shinguuji finishes.

The host beams at them. “I see! I’ll make sure you folks get a good deal tonight. Happy anniversaries!”

Toujou thanks her as she walks away, but the rest busy themselves with the menu. Just about everything Momota wants to order is way too expensive for his budget.

“I’m paying,” Shinguuji murmurs under his breath, seeing his expression.

Momota whispers back. “I can’t let you cover me every single time.”

Shinguuji says. “I planned and booked this dinner. Order what you’d like.”

Momota sneaks a glance at Harukawa. She appears to have her eye on the most expensive item on the menu - fugu, because she _would_ want a brush with death. How they ended up together in this mystifies him - and he represses a shudder.

Maybe the sukiyaki isn’t that bad after all.

The server arrives next to take drink orders while they finish their decisions. It’s water and jasmine tea all around, though Momota considers shelling out his savings for some good alcohol. He hasn’t anything besides shitty cheap beer in a good three years.

When he leaves, Momota keeps his gaze on the menu as he silently reaches under the table to hold Shinguuji’s hand.

* * *

When Momota was sixteen, it hit him like a truck.

He invited Harukawa over after school and they sat on his shoddy excuse for a roof, drinking beer obtained with a fake ID. That was where he had told her, hot summer air clinging to his skin. It was fine. He’d known Harukawa since they were eight. She’d put him in his place.

“I like guys,” he said,  holding a bottle by the neck. “Exclusively.”

“Oh,” was all Harukawa said, taking a swig. “Okay.”

Momota glared at her. “Fucking say something to that! Don’t brush it off like you do with everything else in your fucking life.”

“Kh,” Harukawa said. “I did. I acknowledged your emotional confession to me. What the hell else do you want?”

Momota dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know! I thought you’d be able to smack some fucking sense back into me.”

Harukawa blinked. “Sense? What are you talking about? You’re gay, who gives a shit?”

“Me? Our school? The entire fucking society we live in?” Momota shouted. “I’m supposed to be cool and comfortable in my masculinity. How the hell am I supposed to do that when it turns out that I’m really a fucking f-”

“Don’t finish that,” Harukawa said. “I don’t like hearing that word.”

Momota deflated. “Why?”

Harukawa rolled her eyes. “Because I’m a lesbian, idiot.”

Momota went quiet for a long moment.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Harukawa muttered, finishing her beer.

Momota waited for a minute. “How long have you known?”

Harukawa shrugged. “Couple years? I was always pretty sure that I wasn’t into guys, though.”

“Huh. Any… girl you have your eye on?” he asked.

Harukawa said. “Eh, I’d fuck Toujou if she asked.”

“Christ, Harumaki!” Momota shouted.

She scoffed. “I was kidding. Mostly. But she really is drop dead gorgeous. What about you? Anyone in particular, or do you got a type?”

Momota rubbed his forefinger against his thumb. He’d never be able to tell her, but dear god was the whole situation confusing. Most of his feelings were still muddled in his head.

“I… Tall, dark hair,” Momota got out. “That’s what I’ve noticed so far.”

Harukawa said. “Cool. I’ll let you know if I run into someone who fits that description.”

Momota snorted. “Yeah, okay. Good luck finding another f… gay dude in this fucking city. In this fucking prefecture!”

“You’re too pessimistic,” Harukawa said, uncapping another beer.

“You keep doomsday plans in your closet.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Momota chuckled, but felt bile burning in his throat. At the beginning of the year, there had been one openly gay person at the school, and he had transferred before May.

* * *

 “Ask her out.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Momota questioned. “You’re a lesbian. Toujou’s a lesbian. She clearly likes you back.”

Harukawa crossed her arms. “She does not.”

Momota rolled his eyes. “Bullshit! I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“And what way is that?” Harukawa asked.

Momota said. “Simple, same way I look at- Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck my ass. You didn’t hear that.”

Harukawa smirked. “No, I definitely heard that. Who’s your eye candy?”

Momota pursed his lips. “I hate you.”

“I’ll never ask Toujou out unless you tell me,” Harukawa said.

“You’re just torturing yourself,” Momota said. “You want her.”

Harukawa said. “Just like how you want… Fill in the blank, Momota.”

Momota glared at her. “Fine, fine you win. Shinguuji’s hot and that’s just objective.”

Harukawa snorted. “You would be into the popular guys.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Harukawa said. “But you should ask him out.”

Momota blinked. “What? No!”

Harukawa said. “Toujou.”

Momota scowled. “That’s different, you’re actually friends with her. I’ve barely even _talked_ to Shinguuji, even at the… meetings.”

They couldn’t talk about the vaguely illegal GSA club meetings outside of the gatherings themselves. It hadn’t been greenlit by a teacher, they had nowhere they could consistently meet, and had exactly four members.

How Harukawa had recruited Toujou and Shinguuji, as they couldn’t put up posters, or even _mention_ their sexuality without being crucified, Momota still had no idea.

“Yeah, but I have his phone number,” Harukawa said. “Want it?”

Momota furrowed his brows. “How the everloving fuck did you-”

Harukawa said. “When I brought ‘em on board, I said I needed their numbers for a full member’s application. Really, I just wanted Toujou’s, but I figured I’d keep Shinguuji’s since he seemed like your type.”

“My… You remembered that?”

Harukawa said. “Of course I did. We’re friends.”

Momota smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Thanks, Harumaki.”

* * *

_stardust: hey, shinguuji. you awake?_

_temple: I am. Please forgive my response rate, I’m using data and I’m on guard._

_stardust: whoa whoa guard? are you okay man?_

_temple: Yes. Toujou-san is visiting with Harukawa-san at the moment, and I’m acting as her getaway if necessary._

_temple: And Harukawa-san refuses to give me her wifi password._

_stardust: it’s 9273619801_

_temple: Much appreciated. Is something the matter?_

_stardust: nah man you’re busy! don’t worry about me, we can do this another time_

_temple: Are you sure? I don’t have anything to do until morning._

_temple: Unless something goes wrong, but I’d rather that not be the case._

_stardust: it’s_

_stardust: heavy._

_temple: I have arms. I’m sure I can support the weight._

_stardust: okay i_

_stardust: shinguuji. shinguuji korekiyo._

_temple: That is my name._

_stardust: i fucking know that’s your name i was trying to be dramatic_

_temple: Sorry. Carry on._

_stardust: ._

_stardust: i like you._

_stardust: a lot._

_stardust: it’s stupid i know we’re sixteen and we barely know each other but i._

_stardust: this was a bad idea it’s two in the morning_

_stardust: sorry to fucking. dump all this on you._

_temple: Please don’t be sorry. I feel the same._

_stardust: YOU_

_stardust: you what???????_

_temple: That’s the distress signal, I have to go._

_stardust: WAIT YOU CANT FUCKING LEAVE ME LIKE THIS_

_stardust: SHINGUUJI PLEASE_

_stardust: fuck_

_temple: Harukawa-san’s parents woke up. I had to rescue Toujou-san, and it is rather difficult to catch a person who jumps from a second story window._

_stardust: oh shit are you two safe?_

_temple: Yes. She’s staying over with my sister and I for the rest of the night._

_stardust: good to hear, is she doing any better?_

_stardust: also sorry about earlier_

_temple: No, please. I only wish fate had better timing. My sister is as well as she can be._

_temple: And as I said, I feel the same way about you._

_stardust: really?_

_temple: Since the day we first met, I knew you would change my life. I just hadn’t figured out how._

_stardust: Oh._

_temple: Indeed._

_stardust: so_

_stardust: what the fuck do we do now_

_temple: I don’t know. But, Toujou-san… mentioned to me on the drive back that she had an idea. Perhaps we can discuss it at the next gathering._

_stardust: sure, can’t wait_

_stardust: uh_

_stardust: this is gonna be weird_

_stardust: i love you_

_temple: I love you too._

* * *

It’s almost sadistically brilliant.

Momota will pretend to date Harukawa, while Shinguuji will pretend the same with Toujou. It’s believable, and with luck, not a soul will know the truth.

Of course, to sell the show, they have to play it up. Shinguuji walks Toujou to class and carries her books and Momota kisses Harukawa at the front of the school, in broad daylight.

He pretends that the soft, cherry-red lips belong to Shinguuji, and are what is hidden under his mask. It doesn’t work, but it’s harder for her. Harukawa has to deal with his goatee.

* * *

Momota stoops to pick up a fallen piece of paper from his stack of homework. When he stands up, a guy he doesn’t really enjoy talking to is standing right in front of his face.

“Hey, Momota! How was the anniversary? What’d you do, huh?”

Momota frowns. “It was fun. I… We went to dinner. Nothing extravagant.”

The guy says. “Well, what else? Did you get up to something else after?”

“Excuse me?” Momota feels his fists curling.

“I’m just asking! Is Harukawa a good lay? I mean, that has to be why you’re with her, considering her rotten personality,” the guy continues.

Anger swells within him.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

He leers forward. “Aw, don’t be a spoilsport! I can imagine her, writhing beneath you. Or maybe she tops, I could imagine it with how much of a p-”

Momota shoves him in the chest. “Fuck off, man! I told you, don’t fucking disrespect my girlfriend like that!”

The other guy shouts after him, but he doesn’t turn his head. He needs a drink. Or someone to talk to. Whichever is cheaper.

* * *

Shinguuji’s car halts in the grass. Toujou and Harukawa leap out before Momota can even get his seatbelt off, and have disappeared over the hill by the time he’s got the door open.

“They were excited,” he remarks shortly.

“Let him be,” Shinguuji says. “It’s not much longer that we’ll be able to stay like this. As long as they take care of themselves, which I trust them do to, they’ll be fine.”

Momota leans against the still warm car. “I know. They just grow up so fast.”

Shinguuji laughs. “Indeed.”

Neither of them are masters of romance, so they just take in the evening light as Momota smokes and Shinguuji watches the nearby pond. They stay linked by their hands, hidden in this small pocket of the world.

Evening turns to night. Stars blanket the sky, followed by pillows of clouds. Momota feels a chill in the air seconds before a drop of rain puts his cigarette out.

“Shit.”

The drop turns into a downpour in a flat second. Momota and Shinguuji have no sooner ducked inside the car when Harukawa and Toujou appear on the crest of the hill, holding a blanket over their heads and running for them.

“That came out of nowhere,” Toujou breathes when the two of them are safe inside.

“I checked the weather and everything,” Harukawa groans. “This shouldn’t have fucking happened.”

Shinguuji says. “It’s just good to see that you made it back. I’ll drop you all off at home.”

Toujou smiles. “Thank you very much, Shinguuji-kun.”

“Yeah,” Harukawa smoothes her clothes. “Thanks.”

At some point on the ride back, Harukawa and Toujou fall asleep on each other’s shoulders. Momota watches them through the corners of his eyes and drums his fingers on his lap.

When they arrive outside Harukawa’s house, Momota rouses her and walks her to the front door himself, leaving her with a small peck on the cheek, only because her father answered. Shinguuji does the same at Toujou’s house.

He comes back to the car with slightly damp hair and either rain or teardrops on his cheek. Momota brushes his face with his thumb, but Shinguuji hardly reacts to the touch. Instead, he sits in the driver’s seat and stares at the rain blasted windshield.

“Do you need something?” Momota asks quietly.

Shinguuji tightens his ponytail. “No. Let’s go.”

* * *

It’s still raining when they get to Momota’s excuse for a home. He climbs out of the car with a ‘thank you’, but Shinguuji stops him with a few hoarse words.

“Let me walk you up.”

Momota waits, feeling his hair droop as the rain attacks it further. Shinguuji comes up to his side and holds his hand in the darkness as they walk up the creaky porch to the front door. Momota pushes it open, then turns and speaks.

“Wait, don’t go just yet.”

Shinguuji doesn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t. I told you before, about my sister’s illness, correct?”

Momota says. “Yeah, you did. Is she okay?”

“I missed a call from the hospital,” Shinguuji says. “Her condition has gotten worse. I have to go and see her, before it’s too late.”

“But isn’t that all the more reason to stay?” Momota says without thinking. “Do… Do you _want_ to be there, if she…”

Shinguuji considers his words. “No. No, I don’t. I would rather it be over, than have been there and not been able to do anything.”

Momota takes his hands again and pulls him inside. “Stay here tonight. We’ll find something distracting on TV to keep your mind off it.”

There isn’t much room on Momota’s couch, and it doesn’t recline, so after he sprawls across it like usual, Shinguuji does the same, so that he’s essentially lying in his lap. His head rests on Momota’s chest.

“I thought you didn’t have cable,” Shinguuji says as Momota fumbles for the remote that’s being held together by duct tape and love.

“I don’t,” Momota turns on the TV and it lands on a cooking show. “This… is only slightly illegal. Don’t worry about it.”

Under his breath, Shinguuji murmurs. “I always worry about you.”

Momota flicks through the channels. He eventually comes to a halt at a reality show he recognizes, only to freeze internally.

“Shit, you probably don’t wanna watch something like this right now.”

Shinguuji raises his head from Momota’s chest. “What is it?”

Momota blinks. “You’ve never heard of Danganronpa?”

“I don’t watch a lot of television,” Shinguuji replied. “What’s the concept?”

Momota says. “It’s… kind of a murder mystery? After someone dies, the people investigate and then have a trial to find out who the killer is.”

“Sounds bizarre.”

“That’s not even the weirdest thing,” Momota coughs. “Apparently, they don’t even use actors. They get real fucking people to be on their show.”

“That’s barbaric,” Shinguuji says. “Humanity is… so disgusting.”

Momota leans against the couch cushion. “It sure is.”

The application for season fifty-three sits on his bedside table.

* * *

It’s the guy again. Momota thinks his name might be Suzuki, or something else ridiculously common. He tries to ignore him, because he’s really not in the mood to talk.

He won’t be able to make rent next month unless he does this, but if he fails, then he dies.

“Hey, don’t just walk away!” Suzuki shouts at him.

Momota spins around. “What do you _want?”_

Suzuki’s expression eases. “Man, haven’t you heard already? God, I’m so sorry.”

“What?!” Momota snaps. “Don’t waste my fucking time.”

Suzuki says. “Your girlfriend’s a fucking dyke, dude.”

Momota’s books fall to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I wish-”

Momota pulls him off the ground by his collar. “Where. Is she. Tell me right this instant, or I’ll beat you into next Tuesday.”

Suzuki gaps for air. “S-Second… second floor! By the… b-bathrooms.”

Momota drops him and runs, ignoring his books and any social graces he ever had. He pushes past every student in his way, desperate to find Harukawa. There’s a chance it was a mistake.

He turns the corner, almost to the washrooms, when he finds himself unable to take a step forward.

Toujou is crying on the floor in a ball, while Harukawa stabs a boy in the leg.

* * *

“So, which one of you would like to explain what happened?”

The headmaster peers over his horn-rimmed glasses, examining the three of them. “Nakamura-kun?”

Nakamura spits. “That fucking psycho bitch cut me! I guess I looked at her the wrong way, cause she just stabbed-“

“I stabbed you because you _groped_ Kirumi!” Harukawa snarls, ready to jump out of her seat.

“So on top of being a psycho bitch you’re a _liar_ -“

“Enough,” the headmaster says. “Momota-kun? You came across the incident. What did you see?”

“The fact that Toujou’s in fucking hysterics should be enough evidence,” Momota mutters.

Beside him, Harukawa’s hand goes white as she grips the arm of her chair. Her arm twitches something fierce. He doesn’t dare look at her, but he knows what she wants from him.

He lies. “But yeah. I turned the corner and… he had his hands on Toujou. I was ready to go over and break his fucking nose… but Harukawa shoved him down and stabbed him first.”

“You fucker.”

The headmaster raises his hand. “Quiet. You two are free to go… for the time being. We will be in contact with your families. Nakamura-kun, I’d like you to stay longer.”

Harukawa grabs Momota’s arm and tugs him out of the office, out of the school, and into her car. She starts the engine and drives off into the distance.

After twenty minutes, she pulls over to the side of the road and stops, leaning back in her seat.

“Fuck.”

Momota asks quietly. “Hey… Did he really…”

“I wouldn’t lie about something serious like that,” Harukawa snaps. “Yes. He touched her after he saw me kiss her.”

“I believed you. I just wanted to hear you say it,” Momota says. “Are you okay?”

Harukawa groans. “If my parents find out, this is all over.”

Momota blinks. “He said he was gonna call them. They might already know.”

“No, not about the stabbing,” Harukawa says. “They won’t give a shit about that. Might actually be proud of me for once.”

“Then what-“

“If they discover that I’m a lesbian, I’ll be fucking homeless. And so will Kirumi,” Harukawa adds, her voice weak.

Momota says. “I don’t have much to offer, but you’re both welcome to live with me.”

Harukawa scoffs. “In your falling down shithole? You can’t afford the fucking rent, and we both know that.”

“I’m working on a solution to that,” Momota says.

Harukawa asks. “You get a job?”

“Yeah,” Momota lies. “Sorta. I have an interview today. I think they’ll like me, though.”

“Shit,” Harukawa mumbles. “Well, props to you. Need me to drive you wherever the hell you’re headed?”

Momota pulls the crumpled piece of paper that has the audition site scribbled on it out of his pocket. “Do you know where this is?”

Harukawa takes the scrap out of his hands. “Mm, it’s near the 24 hour pharmacy I frequent. I’ll get you there.”

“You frequent a 24 hour pharmacy?”

Harukawa goes silent.

“Harumaki?”

“My father doesn’t like you,” Harukawa murmurs. “Sometimes shit goes down. Already told you they’d be proud of me for stabbing a guy.”

“Why didn’t you ever fucking _tell me-“_

“Why the hell do you think I spend so much time with you?!” Harukawa exclaims. “I don’t want to be a part of that. They don’t yell at me when I’m not home.”

Momota takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve helped me through more than you think,” Harukawa says. “Still want me to take you to your interview?”

Momota asks. “Will you be safe?”

Harukawa nods. “Yeah. I’m gonna pick up Kirumi, and we’ll… go anywhere but here.”

“Then yes, please,” Momota says. “And give her my best.”

Harukawa starts the car again.

“I will.”

* * *

He hands his completed application to the blue haired intern at the front desk. She takes him and a group of others to a small waiting room, before spotting a blonde girl and wandering off.

Momota clutches his ticket tight in his fist until the number above the door changes to match the one in his hand.

The audition itself is simple, mostly standard interview questions that came from the application. The real stinger is their closer, and he’s already prepared something good.

“Why do you want to be on Danganronpa?”

Momota smirks and gives them a thumbs up.

“I’m not just gonna be on Danganronpa, I’m gonna kill everyone and win! Once I’ve got fame and fortune, I don’t gotta worry about what’s impossible.”

It’s horrible. It’s brilliant. His wallet is empty.

* * *

He reaches his house at sundown, only to discover somebody waiting outside it. Shinguuji is standing on his front porch, tapping his foot.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” Shinguuji remarks upon sighting him. “I heard you had an interview.”

“Did,” Momota says. “I had to walk back. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Shinguuji says. “You should have called. I would have came and picked you up.”

Momota shrugs. “It’s too late now. Why are you here? I mean, glad to see you and everything, but I wasn’t expecting to come back to this.”

Shinguuji closes his eyes. “My sister is gone.”

Momota says. “Oh, God. God, Shinguuji… I hope it was peaceful.”

“It was,” he confirms. “You were right before. I didn’t want to be there in the face of it, completely helpless.”

“You couldn’t have done anything else,” Momota promises.

“That’s the worst part,” Shinguuji sighs.

Momota pushes open the front door. “Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

As it turns out, Momota doesn’t have any tea, and his hot water was shut off, so he heats a sports drink over the stove and pours it into a chipped coffee mug over some basil leaves that he may have stolen from a garden store.

Shinguuji drinks it unflinchingly.

“What are you going to do now?” Momota asks.

Shinguuji says. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to be alone in our house right now. Or for some time.”

Momota replies. “Stay here for a few days. I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t impose on you.”

“You wouldn’t be. You’ve been there for me since the beginning, let me pay you back. Long as you don’t mind the other two possibly being here.”

Shinguuji sets down his cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask… What on earth happened?”

“Some fuckhead groped Toujou and Harumaki stabbed him,” Momota says. “She got suspended, and I don’t have a clue what’s up with Toujou.”

Shinguuji sighs. “Not good. I heard… what I hope is a baseless rumor. Did people really see them together?”

“Yeah. It’s going to get out that they’re gay,” Momota mutters. “And the same’ll happen to us. We’re dead men walking.”

Shinguuji closes his eyes. “How did this happen?”

Momota says. “I’ll fix this, I swear.”

“How?”

Momota sighs. “I wasn’t at a job interview. I auditioned for that show we watched together.”

Shinguuji stiffens. “You what?! That’s suicide.”

“I’m going to win it,” Momota promises. “Win it, and bring us money, and all four of us are gonna get far, far away from this shit city.”

“My sister only just died,” Shinguuji croaks. “And now the man I love tells me he’s on his way out too.”

Momota puts his hand on Shinguuji’s shaking fist. “No. I just told you that I’m gonna fucking win. I swear, you won’t have to watch me die.”

“Do you now?”

“I swear on whatever honour as a man I have left.”

Shinguuji says. “You have more honour than any other man I’ve ever met.”

Momota rubs his neck. “You fucking flatter me. Let’s uh, get you lying down. You still don’t look too good.”

Shinguuji gets up with him, still clinging to his hand. Momota turns and stares at him, then grabs his necktie and pulls it so that Shinguuji is hardly an inch away from his face.

He’s warm.

Shinguuji pulls his mask down and Momota tugs on the tie once more to kiss him. It’s ugly, messy, and exactly what two people like them deserve.

He doesn’t realize he’s walking backwards until he hits the paper thin wall next to the refrigerator.

In that moment, Momota thinks that he would tell the entire world that he loved Shinguuji and not give a damn about the repercussions, because Shinguuji is more than the world.

He is everything.

As tears roll down Momota’s face, he’s certain he’ll never love anyone more.

* * *

Momota wakes up just after dawn with soft autumn air flowing in through his open window. Beside him, Shinguuji is still fast asleep, snoring.

He slips under the thin duvet and finds Shinguuji’s hand so that he can hold it to keep warm. Before he can drift back to sleep, he coughs a few times into his elbow.

Damn allergies.

With his boyfriend, lover, life partner, whatever you would call Shinguuji Korekiyo pressed up against him, Momota returns to a sweet smelling dream of stardust and dew.

* * *

“But…” Shuuichi puzzles. “Why was Amami-kun the only one who remembered the Super High School Level Hunt?”

It’s a good question. Momota considers it, but surely his genius assistant is already halfway to the answer. Shuuichi is good like that.

Shinguuji says. “It’s meaningless to wonder about such things now. After all, he’s already dead.”

Momota scowls.

“However, if you’d still like to talk to him,” Shinguuji goes onwards. “I could recommend a special necromancy technique.”

Sweat rolls down Momota’s face as he shouts. “S-Stop! Stop saying such weird shit! And come to think of it, stop talking like a fucking homo all of a sudden!”

For one single second, hurt flashes in Shinguuji’s eyes, before it is replaced with startling apathy.

What a fucking weirdo, Momota thinks. Whatever, he doesn’t have to deal with him much longer. He has Shuuichi by his side now.

And his assistant is the only person he’ll ever need.


End file.
